


Solidarity

by lezzerlee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Haircuts, Memories, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:59:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezzerlee/pseuds/lezzerlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles chooses not to shave his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solidarity

Stiles picked up the clippers, a familiar weight in his hand. As he gazed into the mirror he took in his appearance. His cheeks were more gaunt than before, his eyes more bruised. He could see the stress of the last few months played over his skin.  
  
He looked like his mom.  
  
He’s always looked more like his mom. But he looked like her at the end, with her sunken eyes and her frail skin. He remembered how light she felt when he hugged her, like she was made of paper, a sculpture replacement of the vital strong woman he knew her to be. Her smile had still been white but the shine in her eyes had dimmed.  
  
Months of fighting paranormal beasts had taken a toll on him. Never had Stiles felt so fragile, so mortal. He still had fading bruises from a particularly bad brawl with the alphas. He pulled his fringe back with his hand, revealing a healing cut on his forehead. There were ragged claw marks along his ribcage and back.  
  
It had started with solidarity.  
  
When her hair started falling out—no, not when her hair started falling out. When her hair became too thin to hide that it was falling out, when combing over the patches no longer worked, Stiles made a pact with his mom. They would both shave their heads. And sure, he was a boy, it wasn’t the same, but it was all he could do at the time. She had cried, and then smiled, and had let him place the clippers to her head, her breath coming out in hitches and sobs as he slowly, carefully drew the shears across her head.  
  
What was left of her brown hair, no longer lustrous or full, fell to the floor. They buzzed his head right after. He remembered the look his father had when he walked in the door that evening. The frightened, heartbroken, wounded look. And Stiles felt bad for reminding his dad that his wife was dying, but he never regretted doing it for his mom.  
  
It started with a pact, but it didn't’ end there. Even after her death, Stiles shaved his head every few months. It was easy. It was part of the routine that kept his hyperactive mind on track. It was a way to remember his mom, even if it was remembering her death.  
  
And that’s what made Stiles pause.  
  
With how many times he had almost died recently, how many times his friends had almost died, he wondered if it was best to remember people at their worst. He would never want to remember Scott as an out of control werewolf or Allison as a deranged hunter. Hell, even remembering Jackson as a raging douche was better than remembering him as a murdering Kanima. Why shouldn’t he think of his mom as the healthy and beautiful woman she was when he was a kid? Why should he hold on to the very worst part of his memories of her?  
  
He set the clippers down and clutched the edge of the sink, breathing deeply to keep calm, blinking back tears and fighting the urge to smash the mirror to pieces with his bare hand.  
  
After a long while, he unplugged the clippers and wound the cord, tucking them away under the sink. Flicking the light out Stiles stared hard at his dark silhouette in the mirror before turning to leave the room.  
 **  
**


End file.
